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ANGE<-ES 
NORMAL  SOHOO. 


THE  UNLIVED   LIFE   OF 


LITTLE 
MARY  ELLEN 


By 

RUTH   McENERY  STUART 

Author  of  Sonny,  Napoleon  Jackson,  etc. 


With  Decorations  by 
RUTH  SYPHERD  CLEMENTS 


THE   BOBBS-MERRILL   COMPANY 

Publishers 


41 14 1 


Courtesy  of  Harper  and  Brothers 

Copyright  1910 
The  Bobbs-Merrill  Company 


PRESS  OF 

BRAUNWORTH  &  CO. 

BOOKBINDERS  AND  PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN,  N.  Y. 


o 


THE    UNLIVED    LIFE    OF 

LITTLE  MARY 
ELLEN 


W 


i  HEN    Simpkinsville 
shirt-sleeves   along   her 


fronts  in  summer,  she  does  not  wisH:tci 
be  considered  en  deshabille.  Indeed, 
excepting  in  extreme  cases,  she  would 
— after  requiring  that  you  translate  it 
into  plain  American,  perhaps — deny 
the  soft  impeachment. 

Simpkinsville    knows    about    coats 
and  she  knows  about  ladies,  and  she 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

knows  that  coats  and  ladies  are  to  be 
taken  together. 

But  there  are  hot  hours  during  Au- 
gust when  nothing  should  be  required 
to  be  taken  with  anything — unless,  in- 
deed, it  be  ice  with  everything  except- 
ing more  ice. 

During  the  long  afternoons  in  fly- 
time  no  woman  who  has  any  discretion 
— or,  as  the  Simpkinsville  men  would 
say,  any  "management" — would  leave 
her  comfortable  home  to  go  "hangin' 
roun'  sto'e  counters  to  be  waited  on." 
And  if  they  will — as  they  sometimes  do 
— why,  let  them  take  the  consequences. 

Still,  there  are  those  who,  from  the 


sville  popular  mind-masculine  as  be 

j  to  a  royal  family  before  who 
aTT^hings^must  give  way — even  shirt- 


For  these,  and  because  any  one  of 
them  may  turn  her  horse's  head  into  th 
main  road  and  drive  up  to  any  of  the 
stores  any  hot  afternoon,  there  are  coat- 
pegs  within  easy  reach  upon  the  inside 
door-frames — pegs  usually  covered 
with  the  linen  dusters  and  seersucker 
cutaways  of  the  younger  men  without. 

Very  few  of  the  older  ones  disturb 
themselves  about  these  trivial  matters. 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

Even  the  doctors,  of  whom  there  are 
two  in  town,  both  "leading  physicians," 
are  wont  to  receive  their  most  import- 
ant "office  patients"  in  this  comfortable 
fashion  as/palmetto  fans  in  hand,  they 
rise  from/  their  comfortable  chairs, 
tiljted  hack  against  the  weather-boarded 
f/pnt#/of  their  respective  drug-stores, 
tep  forward  to  the  buggies  of  such 
adpfes  as  drive  up  for  quinine  and  cap- 
es, or  to  present  their  ailing  babies 
r  open-air  glances  at  their  throats  or 
urns,  without  so  much  as  displacing 
their  linen  lap-robes. 
When  any  of  the  village  belles  dri 


or  walk 


past,  such  of 


he  commerc 


OF  LITTLE  M 


ELLEN 


drummers  as  may  be  sitting  trigly 
coated,  as  they  sometimes  do,  among 
the  shirt-sleeves,  have  a  way  of  feeling 
of  their  ties  and  bringing  the  front  legs 
of  their  chairs  to  the  floor,  while  they 
sit  forward  in  supposed  parlor  atti- 
tudes, and  easily  doff  their  hats  with  a 
grace  that  the  Simpkinsville  boys 
fiercely  denounce  while  they  vainly 
strive  to  imitate  it. 

A  country  boy's  hat  will  not  take  on 
that  repose  which  marks  the  cast  of  the 
metropolitan  hatter,  let  him  try  to  com- 
mand it  as  he  may. 

It  was  peculiarly  hot  and  sultry  to- 
day in  Simpkinsville,  and  business  was 

5 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

abnormally  dull — even  the  apothecary 
business — this  being  the  annual  mid- 
season's  lull  between  spring  fevers  and 
green  chinquapins. 

Old  Doctor  Alexander,  after  nod- 
ding for  an  hour  over  his  fan  beneath 
his  tarnished  gilt  sign  of  the  pestle  and 
mortar,  had  strolled  diagonally  across 
the  street  to  join  his  friend  and  confrere, 
Doctor  Jenkins,  in  a  friendly  chat. 

The  doctors  were  not  much  given  to 
this  sort  of  sociability,  but  sometimes 
when  times  were  unbearably  dull  and 
healthy,  and  neither  was  called  to  any 
one  else,  they  would  visit  each  other 
and  talk  to  keep  awake. 
6 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

"Well,  I  should  say  so!"  the  visitor 
dropped  into  the  vacant  chair  beside  his 
host  as  he  spoke.  "I  should  say  so. 
Ain't  it  hot  enough  for  you?  Ef  it  ain't, 
I'd  advise  you  to  renounce  yo'  religion 
an',  prepare  for  a  climate  to  your  taste." 

This  pleasantry  was  obviously  in  re- 
ply to  the  commoa  summer-day  greet- 
ing, "Hot  enough  for  you  to-day,  Doc?" 

"Yas,"  continued  the  guest,  as  he  zig- 
zagged the  back  legs  of  his  chair  for- 
ward by  quick  jerks  until  he  had  gained 
the  desired  leaning  angle — "Yas,  it's 
too  hot  to  live,  an'  not  hot  enough  to 
die.  I  reckon  that's  why  we  have  so 
many  chronics  a-hangin'  on." 
7 


have  to  give  up  practisin'  antl  go 


rovides,  Doctor,"  replied 
Hc&t,  with  a  chuckle, 
the  chronics,  I  reckon  you 


makin'  soap.    Ain't  that  aboutjtl 
of  it?" 

'Yas,  chronics  an'  —  an'  babies.    Ef 
Hhey  didn't  come  so  punctual,  summer 
an'  winter,  I  wouldn't  be  able  to  feed 
mine  thet're  a'ready  here.    But  talkin' 
|>out  the  chronics,  do  you  know,  Doc- 

s^  .  rv 

for,  thet  sometimes  when  I  don't  have\ 
much  else  to  think  about,  why,  I  think  V\ 

about  them.   It's  a  strange  ProvidenceV 

v_  /~* 
to  me  thet  keeps  people  a-hangin'  on 


fs 

,  of  co'se,  but  we've  got    icrp- 

for  callin'  Him  the  Great  Physi- 
cian, ^n'  why,  when  He  could  ef  He 

oul4  He  don't—" 

"I  wouldn't  dare  to  ask  myself  sech 
questions  as  that,  Doctor,  ef  I 

•j^ 

7  wouldn't,  I  know.  Besides" — and 
now  he  laughed — "besides,  I  jest  give 
you  a  reason  for  lettin'  'em  remain 
they  are — to  feed  us  poor  devils  effec- 
tors. An'  besides  that,  I've  often  seen 
cases  where  it  seemed  to  me  they  were 

,4 

allowed  to  live  to  sanctify  them  thet 

had  to  live  'with  'em.    Of  co'se  in  this 

9 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

I'm  not  speakin'  of  great  sufferers.  And 
no  doubt  they  all  get  pretty  tired  an' 
wo'e  out  with  themselves  sometimes.  I 
do  with  myself,  even,  an'  I'm  well.  Jest 
listen  at  them  boys  a-whistlin'  After 
the  Ball  to  Brother  Binney's  horse's 
trot!  They  haven't  got  no  mo'  rever- 
ence for  a  minister  o'  the  gospel  than 
nothin'. 

"I  s'pose  that  as  long  as  they  ricol- 
lect  his  preachin'  against  dancin'  they'll 
make  him  ride  into  town  to  that  sort  o' 
music.  They've  made  it  up  among  'em 
to  do  it.  Jest  listen — all  the  way  up  the 
street  that  same  tune.  An'  Brother  Bin- 
ney  trottin'  in  smilin'  to  it.  He's  a  good- 
10 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 


natured   man,   with    all    his   vigorous 


views. 


While  they  were  talking\the  Rever 
end  Mr.  Binney  rode  past,  arid  follow- 
ing, a  short  distance  behind  hirri,  came 


- 


a  shabby  buggy,  in  which  a  shabby 


woman  sat  alone.     She  held  her 
a  trifle  high  as  she  drove,  and  it  ^ 
somewhat  awkward  position  which 
vealed  the  fact,  even  as  she  approache< 
in  the  distance,  that  she  carried  whal 
Deemed  an  infant  lying  upon  her  lap.      \\ 
"There  comes  the  saddest  sight  in  all 
pkinsville,  Doctor.    I  noticed  them 
boys  stop  their  whistlin'  jest  as  soon  as 
her  buggy  turned  into  the  road.    I'm 


ii 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

glad  there's  some  things  they  respect," 
said  Doctor  Alexander. 

"Yas,  and  I  see  the  fellers  at  Row- 
ton's  sto'e  are  goin'  in  for  their  coats. 
She's  drawin'  rein  there  now." 

"Yas,  but  she  ain't  more'n  leavin'  an 
order,  I  reckon.  She's  comin'  this 
way." 

The  shabby  buggy  was  bearing  down 
upon  them  now,  indeed,  and  when  Doc- 
tor Jenkins  saw  it  he,  too,  rose  and  put 
on  his  coat.  As  its  occupant  drew  rein 
he  stepped  out  to  her  side,  while  his 
companion,  having  raised  his  hat, 
looked  the  other  way.  

"Get  out  an'  come  in,  Mis'  Bradh 
12 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

Doctor  Jenkins  had  taken  her  hand  as 
he  spoke. 

"No,  thanky,  Doctor.  'Tain't  worth 
while.  I  jest  want  to  consult  you  about 
little  Mary  Ellen.  She  ain't  doin'  well, 
some  ways." 

At  this  she  drew  back  the  green 
barege  veil  that  was  spread  over  the 
bundle  upon  her  lap,  exposing,  as  she 
did  so,  the  blond  head  and  chubby  face 
of  a  great  wax  doll,  with  eyes  closed 
as  if  in  sleep. 

The  doctor  laid  the  veil  back  in  its 
place  quickly. 

"I  wouldn't  expose  her  face  to  the 
evenin'  sun,  Mis'  Bradley,"  he  said 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

gently.  "I'll  call  out  an'  see  her  to-mor- 
row; an'  ef  I  was  you  I  think  I'd  keep 
her  indoors  for  a  day  or  so."  Then  as 
he  glanced  into  the  woman's  haggard 
and  eager  face,  he  added:  "She's  get- 
tin'  along  as  well  as  might  be  expected, 
Mis'  Bradley.  But  I'll  be  out  to-mor- 
row, an'  fetch  you  somethin'  thet'll  put 
a  little  color  in  yo'  face." 

"Oh,  don't  mind  me,  Doctor,"  she 
answered,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  as  she 
tucked  the  veil  carefully  under  the  lit- 
tle head.  "Don't  mind  me.  I  ain't  sick. 
If  I  could  jest  see  her  pick  up  a  little, 
why,  I'd  feel  all  right.  When  you 
come  to-morrer,  better  fetch  somethin' 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

she  can  take.  Well,  good-by,"  she 
added,  as  she  drove  away. 

"Good-by,  Mis'  Bradley." 

It  was  some  moments  before  either  of 
the  doctors  spoke  after  Doctor  Jenkins 
had  returned  to  his  place.  And  then  it 
was  he  who  said: 

"Talkin'  about  the  ways  oj  Provi- 
dence, Doctor,  what  do  you  call  that?" 

"That's  one  o'  the  mysteries  that  it's 
hard  to  unravel,  Doctor.  Ef  anything 
would  make  me  doubt  the  mercy  of 
God  Almighty,  it  would  be  some  sech 
thing  as  that.  And  yet — I  don't  know. 
Ef  there  was  ever  a  sermon  preached 
without  words,  there's  one  preached 

15 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 


uv~ 

733? 


along  the  open  streets  of  Simpkinsville 
by  that  pore  little  half-demented 
woman  when  she  drives  into  town  nurs- 

in'  that  wAx  doll.     An'  it's  preached 

II 
where  io  much  needed,  too  —  to  our 

loungy  people.      There    ain't    many 
jners  that  can  reach  'em  but  — 

>id  you  take  notice  jest  now  how,  as 

'  // 

s<aon  as  she  turned  into  the  road,  all  that 

Avhistlin'  stopped?  They  even  neg- 
lected to  worry  Brother  Binney.  An' 
she's  the  only  woman  in  town  thet'll 
make  old  Rowton  put  on  a  coat.  He'll 
wait  on  yo'  wife  or  mine  in  his  shirt- 
sleevesU  an'  it's  all  right.  But  there's 
somethjijn'  in  that  broken-hearted  wom- 
16 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

an  nursin'  a  wax  doll  thet  even  a  fellow 
like  Rowton'll  feel.  Didn't  you  ever 
think  thet  maybe  you  ought  to  write  her 
case  up,  Doctor?" 

"Yas;  an'  I've  done  it — as  far  as  it 
goes.  I've  called  it  A  Psychological 
Impossibility.  An'  then  I've  jest  told 
her  story.  A  heap  of  impossible  things 
have  turned  out  to  be  facts — facts  that 
had  to  be  argued  backward  from.  You 
can  do  over  argiments,  but  you  can't 
undo  facts.  Yas,  I've  got  her  case  all 
stated  as  straight  as  I  can  state  it,  an' 
some  day  it'll  be  read.  But  not  whilst 
she's  livin'. 

"What's  that?    No,   not  even 
17 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

names  changed  an'  everything.  It 
wouldn't  do.  It  couldn't  help  bein' 
traced  back  to  her.  No ;  some  day,  when 
we've  all  passed  away,  likely,  it'll  all 
come  out  in  a  medical  journal,  signed  by 
me. 

"An'  I've  been  thinkin'  thet  I'd  like 
to  have  you  go  over  that  paper  with  me 
some  time,  Doctor,  so  thet  you  could 
testify  to  it.  An'  I  thought  we'd  get 
Brother  Binney  to  put  his  name  down  as 
the  minister  thet  had  been  engaged  to 
perform  the  marriage,  an'  knew  all  the 
ins  and  outs  of  it.  And  then  it'll  hardly 
be  believed." 

Even  as  they  spoke  they  heard  the 
1.8 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

whistling  start  up  again  along  the  street, 
and,  looking  up,  they  saw  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Binney  approaching. 


"We've  jest  been  talkin'  abou 
Brother  Binney — even  before  t 
started  you  to  dancin'."     Doctor  Jen- 
ie  and  brought  out  a  third  chair 
his  office. 

"No,"  answered  the  dominie,  as,  with 
a  good-natured  smile,  he  dismounted, 
o,  they  can't  make  me  dance,  an'  I 
know  as  it's  a  thing  my  mare'll 
have  to  answer  for.    She  seems  to  take 
naturally  to  the  sinful  step,  an'  so,  quick 
as  they  start  a-whistlin',  I  try  to  ride 
20 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 


as  upright  an'  godly  as  I  can,  to  sort  o' 
equalize  things.  How  were  you  two 
discussin'  me,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

He  put  the  question  playfully  as  he 
took  his  seat. 

"Well,  we  were  havin'  a  pretty  seri- 
ous talk,  brother,"  said  Doctor  Jenkins, 
"a  pretty  serious  talk,  Doc  and  me.  We 
were  talkin'  about  pore  Miss  Mary  El- 
len Williams.  We  were  sayin'  thet  we 
reckoned  ef  there  were  any  three  men  in 
town  thet  were  specially  qualified  to  tes- 
tify about  her  case,  we  must  be  the  three 
— you  an'  him  an'  me.  I've  got  it  all 
written  out,  an'  I  thought  some  day  I'd 
get  you  both  to  read  it  over  and  put  your 
21 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

names  to  it,  with  any  additions  you 
might  feel  disposed  to  make.  After 
we've  all  passed  away,  there  ought  to 
be  some  authorized  account.  You  know 
about  as  much  as  we  do,  I  reckon,  Bro- 
ther Binney." 

"Yes,  I  s'pose  I  do — in  a  way.  I 
stood  an7  watched  her  face  durin'  that 
hour  an'  a  quarter  they  stood  in  church 
waitin'  for  Clarence  Bradley  to  come. 
Mary  Ellen  never  was  to  say  what  you'd 
call  a  purty  girl  exactly,  but  she  always 
did  have  a  face  that  would  hold  you  ef 
you  ever  looked  at  it.  An'  when  she 
stood  in  church  that  day,  with  all  her 
bridesmaids  strung  around  the  chancel, 
22 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

her  countenance  would  'a'  done  for  any 
heavenly  picture.  An'  as  the  time 
passed,  an'  he  didn't  show  up — 

"Well,  I  don't  want  to  compare  sin- 
fully, but  there's  a  picture  I  saw  once  of 
Mary  at  the  Cross — 

"Reckon  I  ought  to  take  that  back, 
lest  it  might  be  sinful;  but  there  ain't 
any  wrong  in  my  telling  you  here  thet 
as  I  stood  out  o'  sight,  waitin'  that  day 
in  church,  behind  the  pyramid  o'  flow- 
ers the  bridesmaids  had  banked  up  for 
her,  with  my  book  open  in  my  hand  at 
the  marriage  service,  whilst  we  waited 
for  him  to  come,  and  she  stood  before 
the  pulpit  in  her  little  white  frock  and 

23 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

wreath,  I  could  see  her  face.  An'  there 
came  a  time,  after  it  commenced  to  get 
late,  when  I  fell  on  my  knees." 

The  good  man  stopped  speaking  for 
a  minute  to  steady  his  voice. 

"You  see,"  he  resumed  presently, 
"we'd  all  heard  things.  I  knew  he 
seemed  completely  taken  up  with  this 
strange  girl ;  an'  when  at  last  he  came 
for  me  to  marry  him  and  Mary  Ellen,  I 
never  was  so  rejoiced  in  my  life.  Thinks 
I,  I've  been  over-suspicious.  Of  co'se  I 
knew  he  and  Mary  Ellen  had  been 
sweethearts  all  their  lives.  I  tell  you, 
friends,  I've  officiated  at  funerals  in  my 
life — buried  little  children  an'  mothers 

24 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

of  families — an'  I've  had  my  heart  i 
my  throat  so  thet  I  could  hardly  do  my 
duty;  but  I  tell  you  I  never  in  all  my 
life  had  as  sad  an  experience  as  I  did 
at  little  Mary  Ellen  Williams'  wed- 
din' — the  terrible,  terrible  weddin'  thet 
never  came  off." 

"An'  I've  had  patients,"  said  Doctor 
Jenkins,  coming  into  the  pause,  "I've 
had  patients,  Brother  Binney,  thet  I've 
lost — lost  'em  because  the  time  had 
come  for  'em  to  die — patients  thet  I've 
grieved  to  see  go  more  as  if  I  was  a 
woman  than  a  man,  let  alone  a  doctor; 
but  I  never  in  all  my  life  came  so  near 
clair  givin'  'way  and  breakin'  down  as 

25 


and 


us,  it  was  terrible!    I'll 
get  that  little  white  face  as  it 
limpy  and  still  against  the  lilies  aloj 
the  chancel  rail,  not  ef  I  live^mou- 
sand  years. 

Of   co'se  we'd  all  had  our  fears, 
same    as    you.    We   knew   Clarence's 
failin',   an'  we  knew  how  the  yaller- 
aired  girl  had  turned  his  head;  but,  of 
,  when  it  come  to  goin'  into  the 
church,  why,  we   thought  it  was   all 
right.     But  even  after  the  thing  had 
happened — even  knowin'  as  much  as 
26 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 


I  did — I  never  to  say  fully  took  in  the 
situation  till  the  time  come  for  her  to 
get  better. 

"For  two  weeks  she  lay  'twixt  life  an' 
death,  an'  the  one  hope  I  had  was  for 
her  to  recognize  me.  She  hadn't  recog- 
nized anybody  since  she  was  brought 
out  o'  the  church.  But  when  at  last  she 
looked  at  me  one  day,  an'  says  she,  'Doc- 
tor— what  you  reckon  kep'  him — so 
late?'  I  tell  you  I  can't  tell  you  how  I 
felt." 

"What  did  you  say,  Doctor?" 

It  was  the  minister  who  ventured  the 
question. 

"What  can  a  man  say  when  he  ain't 
27 


* 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 


got  nothin'  to  say?   I  jest  said,  'Better 
not  talk   any  to-day,   honey.'     An'   I 

turned    awAy    an'    made    pertence    o' 

III 
mixin'   pcfwders — an'  mixed  'em,   for 

thet  mawer — an'  give  sech  as  would  put 

hler  into  a  little  sleep.    An'  then  I  set 

jpy  her  till   she   drowsed   away.     But 

/(vhuen  she  came  out  o'  thet  sleep  an'  I  see 

'how  things  was — when  she  called  her- 

yaelf  Mis'  Bradley  an'  kep'  askin'  for 

/him,  an'  I  see  she  didn't  know  no  better, 

an'  likely  never  would — 

"God  help  me!  But  even  while  I 
scribed  physic  for  her  to  live,  in 


heart 
thougl 


prayed  to  s 
she  had  been 
28 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 


thet  day  to  this  she  ain't  never  doubted 
it.  Of  co'se  she  often  wonders  why  he  j\ 
don't  come  home;  an'  sense  that  ^i'^ 
come,  she— 

"Didn't  it  ever  strike  you^as  a  strange 
Providence  about  thet  doll — ukt 
allow  sech  a  thing,  for  instanc 
tor?" 

Doctor  Jenkins  did  not  answe 
once. 

"Well,"  he  said  presently,  "yas 
an'  no.    Ef  a  person  looks  at  it 

igh,  it  ain't  so  hard  to  see  mercy  in 
^^VOQ'S  judgments.   I  happened  to  be  at 

r  bedside  thq  day  thet  doll  c 


Cttrisftnas  E 


four  years  a 
29 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 


was  mighty  weak  an'  porely.  She  gen'- 
ally  gets  down  in  bed  'long  about  the 
holidays,  sort  o'  reelizin'  the  passin'  o' 
time,  seein'  he  don't  come.  She  had 
been  so  werried  and  puny  thet  the  old 
nigger  'Polio  come  for  me  to  see  her. 
An',  well,  whilst  I  set  there  tryin'  to 
think  up  somethin'  to  help  her,  'Polio, 
he  fetched  in  the  express  package." 

"I've   always   blamed   her   brother, 

iDther  Binney,"  Doctor  Alexander 
rposed,  "for  allowin'  that  package 

go  to  her." 

"Allowin!  Why  he  never  allowed 
it.  You  might  jest  as  well  say  you 
blame  him  for  namin'  his  one  little 
30 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

daughter  after  her  Aunt  Mary  Ellen. 
Thet's  how  the  mistake  was  made. 

"No,  for  my  part  I  never  thought  so 
much  of  Ned  Williams  in  my  life  as  I 
did  when  he  said  to  me  the  day  thet 
baby  girl  was  born,  *Ef  it's  a  girl,  Doc- 
tor, we're  a-goin'  to  name  it  after  sis' 
Mary  Ellen.  Maybe  it'll  be  a  comfort 
to  her.'  An'  they  did. 

"How  many  brothers,  do  you  reckon, 
would  name  a  child  after  a  sister 
thet  had  lost  her  mind  over  a  man 
thet  had  jilted  her  at  the  church  door, 
an'  called  herself  by  his  name  ever 
sence?  Not  many,  I  reckon.  No,  don't 
blame  Ned — for  anything.  He  hoped 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 


she'd  love  the  little  thing,  an'  maybe  it 
would  help  her.    And  she  did  notice  it 
consider'ble  for  a  while,  but  it  didn't 
()  seem  to  hawe  the  power  to  bring  her 

mind  straight.    In  fact,  the  way  she'd 

/// 
set  an'  look  at  it  for  hours,  an'  then  go 

n'   set  down   and   seem  to  be 
',  makes  me  sometimes  suspicion 
thet  was  what  started  her  a-prayin' 
to  send  her  a  child.    She  said  to 
e  more  than  onct  about  thet  time — 
she'd  say,  'You  see,  Doctor,  when  he's 
away  so  much — ef  it  was  God's  will 
a  child  would  be  a  heap  o'  company 
me  whilst  he's  away.' 


$,  mind  you, 
32 


icn  ha 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 


showed  up  at  the  weddin' ;  when  we  all 

knew  he   ran   away  an'   married   the 

yaller-hair  thet  same  night.  Of  co'se  it 

did  seem  a  strange  Provide 

to  a  God-fearin'  woman  as 

was;  it  did  seem  mysterious 

should  be  allowed  to  make 

dic'lous  carryin'  thet  wax  c 

the  streets;  an'  yet,  when  you  com 

think—" 

"Well,  I  say  what  I  did  befo'," 
Doctor     Alexander.       "Her     brother 
jhould  'a'  seen  to  it  thet  no  sech  express 
intended  for  his  child  should 
)een  sent  to  the  aunt — not 
tinoV' 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 


"How  could  he  see  to  it  when  he 
didn't  send  it — didn't  know  it  was 
comin'?  Of  co'se  we  Simpkinsville 
folks,  we  all  know  thet  she's  called 
Mary  Ellen,  an'  thet  Ned's  child  has 
been  nicknamed  Nellie.  But  his  wife's 
kin,  livin'  on  the  other  side  o'  the  conti- 
nent, they  couldn't  be  expected  to  know 
thet,  an'  when  they  sent  the  little  girl 
thet  doll,  why,  they  nachelly  addressed 
it  to  her  full  name;  and  it  was  jest  as 
nachel  for  the  express  office  to  send  it 
up  to  Miss  Mary  Ellen's. 

"Even  then  the  harm  needn't  to  Ve 
been  done  exceptin'  for  her  bein'  sick 
abed,  an'  me,  her  smartie  doctor,  hopin' 
34 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 


to  enliven  her  up  a  little  with  an  unex- 
pected present,  makes  the  nigger  'Polio 
set  it  down  by  her  bedside,  and  opens  it 
befo'  her  eyes,  right  there.  Maybe  I'm 
to  blame  for  thet — but  I  ain't.  We  can't 
do  mo'  than  try  for  the  best.  I  thought 
likely  as  not  Ned  had  ordered  her  some 
little  Christmas  things — as  he  had,  in 
another  box." 

The  old  doctor  stopped,  and,  taking 
out  his  handkerchief,  wiped  his  eyes. 

"Of  co'se,  as  soon  as  I  see  what  it 
was,  I  knew  somebody  had  sent  it  to  lit- 
tle Mary  Ellen,  but— 

"You  say,  Brother  Binney,  thet  the 
look  in  her  face  at  the  weddin'  made 

35 


r 


THE 


IVED  LIFE 


you  fall  on  yo'  knees.  I  wish  you  could 
V  seen  the  look  thet  came  into  her  eyes 
when  I  lifted  thet  doll-baby  out  of  thet 
box. 

"Heavenly  Father!  Thet  look  is  one 
o'  the  things  tbet'll  come  back  to  me 
sometimes  when  I  wake  up  too  early  in 
the  mornin's,  an'  I  can't  get  back  to 
sleep  for  it,  although  at  the  time  I  didn't 
fully  realize  it,  somehow. 

"She  jest  reached  and  took  the  doll 
out  o'  my  hands,  an'  turnin'  over,  with 
her  face  to  the  wall,  held  it  tight  in  her 
arms  without  sayin'  a  word.  Then  she 
lay  still  for  so  long  thet-a-way  thet  by- 
an'-by  I  commenced  to  get  uneasy  less'n 

36 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

she  had  fainted.  So  I  leaned  over  an' 
felt  of  her  pulse,  an'  I  see  she  was  layin' 
there  cryin'  over  it  without  a  sound — 
an'  I  come  away. 

"I  don't  know  how  came  I  to  be  so 
thick-headed,  but  even  then  I  jest  sup- 
posed thet  seein'  the  doll  nachelly 
took  her  mind  back  to  the  time  she 
was  a  child,  an'  thet  in  itself  was  mighty 
sad  an'  pitiful  to  me,  knowin'  her  story, 
an'  I  confess  to  you  I  was  glad  there 
wasn't  anybody  I  had  to  speak  to  on  my 
way  out.  I  tell  you  I  was  near  about 
cryin'  myself — jest  over  the  pitifulness 

Sj 

of  even  thet. 

"But  next  day  when  I  went  back,  of 

37 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

co'se  I  see  how  it  was.  She  never  had 
doubted  for  a  minute  thet  thet  doll  was 
the  baby  she'd  been  prayin'  for — not  a 
minute.  An'  she  don't,  not  to  this  day 
— straight  as  her  mind  is  on  some 
things. 

"Thet's  why  I  call  it  a  psychological 
impossibility,  she  bein'  so  rational  an' 
so  crazy  at  the  same  time.  Sent  for  me 
only  last  week,  an'  when  I  got  there  I 
found  her  settin'  down  with  it  a-layin' 
in  her  lap,  an'  she  lookin'  the  very  pic- 
ture of  despair. 

"  'Doctor,'  says  she,  'I'm  sure  they's 
mo'  wrong  with  little  Mary  Ellen  than 
you  let  on.  She  don't  grow,  Doctor.' 

38 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

"An'  with  thet  she  started  a-sobbin' 
an'  a-rockin'  back  an'  fo'th  over  it.  'An' 
even  the  few  words  she  could  say,  Doc- 
tor, she  seems  to  forget  'em,'  says  she. 
'She  ain't  called  my  name  for  a  whole 
week.' 

"It's  a  fact;  the  little  talkin'-machine 
inside  it  has  got  out  o'  fix  some  way,  an' 
it  don't  say  'mamma'  an'  'papa'  any 


mo'.' 


"Have  you  ever  thought  about  slip- 
pin'  it  away  from  her,  Doctor,  an'  seein' 
if  maybe  she  wouldn't  forget  it?  If 
she  was  my  patient  I  believe  I'd  try  it, 
any  way." 

"Yas,  but  you  wouldn't  keep  it  up.  I 

39 


jTy  thet 

he  fi^teoLoTtove  hei 
send 

r— in  about  six  hours. 
•^ 
when  I  see  her  face  I  jest  h; 

back  to  her.    An'  I'll  never  bje  me, 
to  take  it  from  her  again.    It  comes 
givin'  her  happiness  than  any- 
mg  else  could — an'  what  could  be  mo' 
innocent?     She's   even  mo'  contented 
since  her  mother  died  an'  there  ain't 
nybody  to  prevent  her  carryin'  it  on 
street.     I  know  it  plegged  Ned  at 
first  to  see  her  do  thet,  but  he's  never 
said  a  word.    He's  one  in  a  thousand. 
He  cares  mo'  for  his  sister's  happiness 
40 


than  fo) 


drives 

r*" 

anything,  an 


place  jest  for  her  to  live  in  it 
consider'ble.     He  says  she 
wouldn't  allow  it,  but  she  thinks  Clar- 
ence pays  for  everything,  an'  of 
Clarence  was  fully  able." 

"I  don't  think  it's  a  good  way  for  her 
to  live,  Doctor,  in  that  big  old  place 
with  jest  them  two  old  niggers.  I  never 
have  thought  so.  Ef  she  was  my  pa- 
tient— " 

"Well,  pardner,  thet's  been  talked 
over  between  Ned  an'  his  wife,  an' 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 


they've  even  consulted  me.  An'  I 
b'lieve  she  ought  to  be  let  alone.  Those 
two  old  servants  take  about  as  good  care 
of  her  as  anybody  could.  Aunt  Milly 
nursed  her  when  she  was  a  baby,  an'  she 
loves  the  ground  she  walks  on,  an' 
humors  her  in  everything. 

"Why,  I've  gone  out  there  an'  found 
that  old  nigger  walkin'  that  doll  up  an' 
down  the  po'ch,  singin'  to  it  for  all  she 
was  worth;  an'  when  I'd  drive  up,  the 
po'  ol'  thing  would  cry  so  she  couldn't 
go  in  the  house  for  ten  minutes  or  mo'. 

"No,  it  ain't  for  us  to  take  away  sech 
toys  as  the  Lord  sends  to  comfort  an' 
amuse  his  little  ones;  an'  the  weak- 
42 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 


minded,  why,  they  always  seem  thet- 
a-way  to  me — the  weak  or  trouble- 
minded. 

"An'  sometimes,  when  I  come  out 
from  some  of  our  homes  where  every- 
thing is  regular  an'  straight  accordin'  to 
our  way  o'  lookin'  at  things,  an'  I  see 
how  miserable  an'  unhappy  everything 
really  is,  an'  I  go  out  to  the  old  Wil- 
liams place,  where  the  birds  are  singin' 
in  the  trees  an'  po'  Miss  Mary  Ellen  is 
happy  sewin'  her  little  doll-clo'es,  an' 
the  old  niggers  ain't  got  a  care  on  earth 
but  to  look  after  her— 

"Well,  I  dun'no'.  Ef  you'd  dare 
say  the  love  o'  God  wasn't  there,  / 

43 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

wouldn't.  Of  co'se  she  has  her  unhappy 
moments,  an'  I  can  see  she's  failin'  as 
time  passes;  but  even  so,  ain't  this  for 
the  best?  They'd  be  somethin'  awful 
about  it,  to  me,  ef  she  kep'  a-growin' 
stronger  through  it  all.  One  of  the 
sweetest  providences  o'  sorrow  is  that 
we  poor  mortals  fail  under  it.  There 
ain't  a  flower  thet  blooms  but  some  seed 
has  perished  for  it." 


44 


fit  was  aj  a  meeting  of  the  wopi 
tjjef-meeting,  about  a  week  af 
conversation   just    related,    tha/  Mrs 
Blanks,   the  good  sister  who /led  Jih 
meeting,  rose  to  her  feet,  anp,/aftjpr 
silence  that  betokened  some  en|paiiras#- 
ment  in   the  subject  she  essayed' 
marked : 

"My  dear  sisters,  I've  had  a  serious 
matter  on  my  mind  for  a  long  time,  a 
subjec'  thet  I've  hesitated  to  mention, 
but  the  mo'  I  put  it  away  the  mo'  it 

45 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

seems  to  come  back  to  me.  I've  hesi- 
tated because  she's  got  kinfolks  in  this 
prayer-meetin',  but  I  don't  believe  thet 
there's  anybody  kin  to  Miss  Mary  Ellen 
thet  feels  any  nearer  to  her  than  what 
the  rest  of  us  do." 

"Amen!"  "Amen!"  and  "Amen!" 
came  in  timid  women's  voices  from  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  room. 

"I  know  how  you  all  feel  befo'  you 
answer  me,  my  dear  sisters,"  she  con- 
tinued presently.  "And  now  I  propose 
to  you  thet  we,  first  here  as  a  body  of 
worshippers,  an'  then  separately  as 

Christian  women  at  home  in  our  closets, 

• 
map|e   her   case   a   subjec'   of   special 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 


prayer.  Let  us  ask  the  good  Lord  to 
relieve  her — jest  so — unconditionally; 
to  take  this  cloud  off  her  life  an'  this 
sorrow  off  our  streets,  am\  I  believe 

He'll  do  it." 

^\ 
There  were  many  quiet  teatwhed  in 

the  little  prayer-meeting  that  rrHKni 
as,  with  faltering  voice,  one  wofna 
after  another  spoke  her  word  of  ex 
tation  or  petition  in  behalf  of  the  li 
suffering  sister. 

That  this  revival  of  the  theme  by  the 
wives  and  mothers  of  the  community 
should  have  resulted  in  renewed  atten- 
tions to  the  poor  distraught  woijnan  was 
but  natural. 

47 


help 
so 

omen  otx^n^  chtwc&es^ 
were   ; 

denomination   in   town   in   the/ 
prayer-meeting — began  to  gc 
fully    resolved    to    say   somerdefinite 
rd  to  win  her,  if  possible,  from  her 
illucination ;  to  break  the  spell  that 
held  her;  but  they  would  almost  inva- 
riably come  away  full  of  contrition  over 
such  false  and  comforting  words  as  they 
d  been  constrained  to  speak  "over 
a  soulless  and  senseless  doll." 

Indeed,  a  certain  Mrs.  Lynde,  one  of 
the  most  ardent  of  these  good  women, 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 


but  a  sensitive  soul  withal,  was  moved, 
after  one  of  her  visits,  to  confess  in  open 
meeting  both  her  sin  and  her  chagrin 
in  the  following  humiliating  fashion: 
"I  declare  I  never  felt  so  'umbled  in 
all  my  life  ez  I  did  after  I  come  away 
from  there,  a  week  ago,  come  Sunday. 
Here  I  goes,  full  of  clear  reasonin'  an' 
Scripture  texts,  to  try  to  bring  her  to 
herself,  an'  I  ain't  no  mo'n  set  down 
sca'cely  befo'  I'm  consolin'  her  with 
false  hopes,  like  a  perfec'  Ananias  an' 
Sapphira.  Ef  any  woman  could  set 
down  an'  look  into  her  face,  whilst  she 
sets  there  an'  po's  out  her  sorrers  over 
that  ridic'lous  little  doll,  when  she  says, 
49 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

'Honey,  do  you  reckon  I'll  ever  raise 
her,  when  she  keeps  so  puny?' — I  say  ef 
any  woman  with  a  human  heart  in  her 
bosom  could  hear  her  say  that,  an'  not 
tell  her,  'Cert'n'y  you'll  raise  her,'  an' 
that  'punier  children  than  that  have 
growed  up  to  be  healthy  men  an' 
women' — well,  maybe  they  might  be 
better  Christians  than  I  am,  but  I  don't 
never  expec'  to  be  sanctified  up  to  that 
point. 

"I  know  I'm  an  awful  sinner,  de- 
servin'  of  eternal  punishment  for  de- 
ceit which  is  the  same  as  a  lie,  but  I  not 
only  told  her  I  thought  she  could  raise 
her,  but  I  felt  of  her  pulse,  an'  said  it 
50 


OF  LITTLE 


ELLEN 


wasn't  quite  what  a  reel  hearty  child's 
ought  to  be.  Of  co'se  I  said  them  last 
words  jest  to  save  myself  from  p'int- 
blank  lyin'. 

"An'  then,  when  I  see  how  it  troubled 
her  to  think  it  wasn't  jest  right,  why, 
God  forgive  me,  but  I  felt  it  over  again, 
an'  counted  it  by  my  watch,  an'  then  I 
up  an'  told  her  it  was  all  right,  an'  that 
ef  it  had  a-been  any  different  to  the  way 
it  was  under  the  circumstances,  I'd  be 
awful  fearful,  which,  come  to  think  of 
it,  that  last  is  true  ez  God's  word,  for  if 
I'd  a-felt  a  pulse  in  that  doll's  wrist — 
which,  tell  the  truth,  I  was  so  excited 
while  she  watched  me  I  half  expected 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 


to  feel  it  pulsate — I'd  'a'  shot  out  o'  that 
door  a  ravin'  lunatic. 

"I  come  near  enough  a-doin'  it  any- 
how wherrihe  patted  its  chest  an'  it  said 
'mammae/an'  'papa'  in  reply.    I  don't 
know,/cwt  I  think  that  the  man  that  put 
into  a  doll's  breast,  to  be  hugged 
ouy  by  a  poor,  bereft,  weak-minded 
man,  has  a  terrible  sin  to  answer  for. 
eems  to  me  it's  mighty  like  breakin' 
the  second  commandment,  which  for- 
bids the  makin'  of  anything  in  the  like- 
ness of  anything  in  the  heavens  above 


or  the  earth  beneath,  which  a  baby  is 

anything,   bein'   the   breat 
God  ffesh-breathed  i 
52 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 


"I  don't  know,  but  I  think  that  com- 
mandment is  aimed  jest  as  direct  at 
talkin'  dolls  ez  it  is  at  heathen  idols, 

u\. 

which,  when  you  come  to  tnlnk  of  it, 

V'\ 

ain't  p'intedly  made  after  the  i^age  of 
anything  in  creation  that  we've\see 
samples  of,  after  all.   Them  that\{\'v 
seen  the  pictures  of  ain't  no  mo'n  s 
outlandish    deformities    that    anybo 
could  conceive  of  ef  he  imagined  a 
strange-figgered  person  standin'  befo'  a 
Bracked  merrer  so  as  to  have  his  various 
sundry  parts  duplicated  promiscu- 

own  the  maker 
ialar  doll  ez  a 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

*"  \ 

raolitor  than  them  that,  for  the  want  o' 
Lnowin'  better,  stick  a  few  extra  mem- 
bers on  a  clay  stature  an'  pray  to  it  in 
faith. 

"Ef  it  hadn't  a-called  her  'mam- 
ma' first  time  she  over-squeezed  it,  I 
don't  believe  for  a  minute  that  that  doll 
would  ever  'a'  got  the  holt  upon  Mary 
Ellen  Williams  that  it  has — I  don't  in- 
deed." 

"Still" — it  was  Mrs.  Blanks  who 
spoke  up  in  reply,  wiping  her  eyes  as 
she  began — "still,  Sister  Lynde,  you 
know  she  frets  over  it  jest  ez  much  sense 
it's  lost  its  speech." 

"Of  co'se,"  said  another  sister;  "an' 

54 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

why  shouldn't  she?  Ef  yo'  little  Katie 
had  a-started  talkin'  an'  then  stopped  all 
of  a  sudden,  wouldn't  you  'a'  been  wor- 
ried, I  like  to  know?" 

"Yas,  I  reckon  I  would,"  replied 
Mrs.  Blanks;  "but  it's  hard  to  put  her 
in  the  place  of  the  mother  of  a  reel 
child — even  in  a  person's  imagination." 


55 


been  in  Simpkinsville  an 
slonaiyioll  whose  eyes  would  open 
m  as  she  was  put  to  bed  or  taken 
up,  and  |he  crying  doll  was  not  a  thing 
unknov^l 

That  the  one  which  should  play  so 
conspicuous  a  part  in  her  history  should 
have  developed  the  gift  of  speech,  in- 
vested it  with  a  weird  and  peculiar  in- 
terest. 

It  was,  indeed,  most  uncanny  and  sor- 
rowful to  hear  its  poor  piping  response 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

to  the  distraught  woman's  caresses  as 
she  pressed  it  to  her  bosom. 

To  the  little  doll-loving  girls  of 
Simpkinsville  it  had  always  been  an  ob- 
ject of  semi-superstitious  reverence — a 
thing  half-doll,  half-human,  almost 
alive. 

When  her  little  niece,  Nellie,  a  tall 
girl  of  eight  years  now,  would  come 
over  in  the  mornings  and  beg  Aunt 
Mary  Ellen  to  let  her  hold  the  baby,  she 
never  quite  knew,  as  she  walked  it  up 
and  down  the  yard,  under  the  mulberry- 
trees,  with  the  green  veil  laid  lovingly 
over  its  closed  lids,  whether  to  look  for 
a  lapse  from  its  human  quality  into 
57 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 


ordinary  dollhood,  or  to  expect  a  sud- 
den development  on  the  life  side. 

She  woulj^,  no  doubt,  long  ago  have 
lost  this  las/t  hope,  in  the  lack  of  progres- 
sion in  iw mechanical  speech,  but  for 
confidences  of  her  Aunt 

honey,  she  often  laughs  out 
turns  over  in  bed,  an'  some- 
wakes  me  up  cryin'  so  pitiful." 
good  aunt,  who  had  never  told 
11  her  pious  life,  often  assured 
her — assured  her  with  a  look  in  he*^ 
face  that  was  absolutely  invincible  Jj 
^ssion  of  perfect  faith  in 
said. 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

There  had  been  several  serious  con- 
ferences between  her  father  and  mother 
in  the  beginning,  before  the  child  had 
been  allowed  to  go  to  see  -Sunt  Mary 
Ellen's  dolly — to  see  and  hora.  it,  and 
inevitably  to  love  it  with  all  he|k  chil 
heart;  but  even  before  the  situatiottVia 
developed  its  full  sadness,  or  they 
ized  how  its  contingencies  would 
miliarize  every  one  with  the  strange^ 
sad  story,  the  arguments  were  in  the 
child's  favor. 

o  begin  with,  the  doll  was  really 

s,  though  it  was  thought  best,  in  the 

i 

mmstances,   that  she   should 


Indee< 


at  first,  her  fatt 


just 
rat  its 


movi. 


to 


e  of  cotton,  the  goo< 
declare  that  "the  outlai 


.WJ 


thing,  with  its  heathenish  imitations 
had  wrought  sorrer  enough  in  theliarh- 
'ready  without  trying  to   dupli- 


Still,  there  couldn't  be  any  harm  in 
letting  her  see  the  beautiful  toy.    And 
o,  as  she  held  it  in  her  arms,  the  child 
catoe  vaguely  to  realize  that  a  great 
mystery  of  anxious  love  hovered  about 
this    strange,   weird    doll,    a    mystery 
which,  to  her  young  perception,  as  she 
60 


sister 

waked  and  gre 

radle — the  real,  warm,  heavy 
t  she  was  sometimes  allowed  to 
hold   "just   for   a   minute"   while  the 
nurse-mammy    followed    close    be 
her. 

If  the  toy-baby  gave  her  the  greater 
pleasure,  may  it  not  have  been  because 
she  dimly  perceived  in  it  a  meetin 

<£• 

point  between  the  real  and  the  imag- 
inary?   Here  was  a  threshold  of  the 
great  wonder-world  which  primitive 
peoples  and  children  love  so  well. 
61 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

They  are  the  great  mystics,  after  all, 
the  children.  And  are  they  not,  per- 
haps, wise  mystics  who  sit  and  wonder 
and  worship,  satisfied  not  to  under- 
stand? 

Summer  waned  and  went  out,  and 
September  came  in — September,  hot 
and  murky  and  short  of  breath,  as  one 
ill  of  heart-failure. 

Even  the  prayer-meeting  women 
who  had  taken  up  Miss  Mary  Ellen's 
case  in  strong  faith,  determined  not  to 
let  it  go,  were  growing  faint  of  heart 
under  the  combined  pressure  of  their 
disappointed  hopes  and  the  summer's 

weight. 

62 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

The  poor  object  of  their  prayers,  in- 
stead of  seeming  in  any  wise  improved, 
grew  rather  more  wan  and  weary  as 
time  wore  on.  Indeed,  she  sometimes 
appeared  definitely  worse,  and  would 
often  draw  rein  in  the  public  road  to 
lift  the  doll  from  her  lap  and  discuss 
her  anxieties  concerning  it  with  any 

passing  acquaintance,  or  even  on  occa- 

«<«• 

sion  to  exult  in  some  fancied  improve- 
ment. 

This  was  a  thing  she  had  never  done 
before  the  women  began  to  pray,  and  it 
took  a  generous  dispensation  of  faith  to 
enable  them  to  continue  steadfast  in  the 
face  of  such  discouragement.  But,  as 

63 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 


is  sometimes  the  case,  greater  faith  came 
from  the  greater  need,  and  the  prayer- 
meeting  grew. 

In  the  face  of  its  new  and  painful 
phases,  as  the  tragedy  took  on  a  fresh 
sadness,  even  a  few  churchly  women 
who  had  stood  aloof  at  the  beginning 
waived  their  sectarian  differences  and 
came  into  the  meeting. 

And  there  were  strange  confessions 
sometimes  at  these  gatherings,  where  it 
was  no  uncommon  thing  for  a  good  sis- 
ter to  relate  how,  on  a  certain  occasion, 
under  pressure  of  its  presentment  of 
comedy  or  tragedy,  she  had  either 
i  $t  out  cryin'  to  keep  from  laughin," 

64 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 


or  "laughed  like  a  heathen  jest  to  keep 
from  cryinV 

The  situation  had  by  this.time  grown 
so  sad  and   painful   that  ihe  doctors 
called  a  consultation  of   neighboring 
physicians,  even  bringing  forNflae 
pose  a  "specialist"  all  the  way  m>m 
famed    insane    asylum,   hoping 
but  determined  to  spare  no  effort 
the  bettering  of  things,  if  they  could 
bettered. 

After  this  last  effort  and  its  discour- 
aging result,  all  hope  of  recovery 
seemed  gone,  and  so  the  good  women, 
when  they  prayed,  despairing  o|\human 
agency,  asked  simply  for  a  miracle, 

65 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

reading  aloud,  for  the  support  of  their 
faith,  the  stories  of  marvelous  healing 
as  related  in  the  gospels. 


66 


t  was  on  a  sultry  morning, 

^  \     \  ] 

night  o:(lrain,  near  the  end  of  Septem- 
ber. Old  Doctor  Jenkins  stood  behind 
the  show-case  in  his  drug-store  deal 
out  quinine  pills  and  earache  drops  to 
the  poor  country  folk  and  negroes,  who, 
with  sallow  faces  or  heads  bound  up, 
declared  themselves  "chillin' ' 
ainful"  while  they  waited.  Patient 
cows,  they  stood  in  line  while  the  dis- 
ensing  hand  of  healing  passed  over  to 
their  tremulous,  eager  palms  the  prom- 

67 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

ised  "help"  for  their  assorted  "miser- 
ies." 

It  was  a  humble  crowd  of  sufferers, 
deferring  equally,  as  they  waited,  to  the 
dignitary  who  served  them  and  to  his 
environment  of  mysterious  potencies, 
whose  unreadable  Latin  labels  glared  at 
them  in  every  direction  as  if  in  chal- 
lenge to  their  faith  and  respect.  To  the 
thoughtful  observer  it  seemed  an  epit- 
ome of  suffering  humanity — patient 
humanity  waiting  to  be  healed  by  some 
great,  wise  and  mysterious  Unknow- 
able. 

It  may  have  been  their  general  atti- 
tude of  unconscious  deference  which 
68 


n 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

moved  the  crowd  to  fall  back  involun- 
tarily at  the  entrance  of  the  first  asser- 
tive visitor  of  the  morning,  or  perhaps 
old  'Polio,  the  old  negro  who  came 
rushing  into  the  shop,  would  have  been 
accorded  right  of  way  in  a  more  preten- 
tious gathering.  There  was  certainly 
that  in  his  appearance  which  demanded 
attention.  It  was  the  tragedy  aspect,  so 
variously  expressed  in  life,  but  always 
unequivocal. 

He  had  galloped  up  to  the  front  door, 
his  horse  in  a  lather  from  the  long,  hot 
ride  from  the  Williams  homestead,  four 
miles  away,  and,  throwing  his  reins 
across  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  had 


-;- 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 


burst  into  the  drug-store  with  an  excited 
appeal : 

"Doctor  Jinkins,  come  quick!     For 
Miss  Mary  Ellen  need 
Doctor — she  need  you — 

not  wait  for  a  response.  Hav- 
elivered  his  summons,  he  turned 
another  word,  remounted  his 
d  rode  away  with  all  possible 

was  not  needed  that  the  doctor 
should  offer  any  apologies  to  his 
tients  for  leaving  them.    He  did  nojt> 

/(seem  to   reme 
were  thjqre  as  he  seize 
70 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 


without  even  waiting  to  put  it  on, 
quickly  unhitched  his  horse  tied  at  the 
front  door,  and  followed^  the  negro 
down  the  road. 

It  was  a  matter  of  but  a  few^noments 
to  overtake  him,  and  when  the  two  we 
riding  abreast  the  doctor  saw  tha|\th 
old  man  was  crying. 

"De  dorg,  he  must  'a'  done  it,  Ma 
Doctor,"  he  began,  between  sobs.   "H 
must  'a'  got  in  las'  night.   It  was  so  hot 
we  lef  all  de  do's  open,  same  lak  we 

doin' — 
But  it  warn't  we-all's  fault,  Doctor. 

.N.  •  * 

de  dorg,  het  must  'a'  snatc 
ile  an'  run  ou 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

yard  wid  it,  an'  it  lay  a-soakin'  in  de 
rain  all  night. 

"When  Miss  Mary  Ellen  fust  woked 
up  dis  mornin'  she  called  out  to  Milly, 
same  as  every  day,  to  fetch  de  baby  in  to 
her.  Milly  she  mos'  gen'ally  tecks  it 
out'n  de  cradle  early  in  de  mornin'  'fo' 
missy  wakes  up,  an'  make  pertend  lak 
she  feeds  it  in  de  kitchen.  An'  dis  morn- 
in', when  she  call  for  it,  Milly,  she 
'spon'  back,  'I  ain't  got  her,  missy!'  jes 
dat-a-way. 

"An'  wid  dat,  'fo'  you  could  bat  yo' 
eye,  missy  was  hop  out'n  dat  bed  an' 
stan'  in  de  middle  o'  de  kitchen  in  her 
night-gownd,  white  in  de  face  as  my 
72 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

whitewash-bresh.  An'  when  she  had 
look  at  Milly  an'  den  at  me,  she  sclaim 
out,  'Whar  my  child?' 

"I  tell  you,  Marse  Doctor,  when  I  see 
dat  look  an'  heah  dat  inquiry,  I  trim- 
bled  so  dat  dat  kitchen  flo'  shuck  tell  de 
kittle-leds  on  de  stove  rattled.  An' 
Milly,  she  see  how  scarified  missy  look, 
an'  she  commence  to  tu'n  roun'  an'  seek 
for  words,  when  we  heah  pit-a-pat/  pit- 
a-pat! on  de  po'ch;  an'  good  Gord, 
Marse  Doctor!  heah  come  Rover,  drag- 
gin'  dat  po'  miser'ble  little  doll-baby  in 
his  mouf,  drippin'  wid  mud  an'  sopped 
wid  rain-water. 

"Quick  as  I  looked  at  it  I  see  dat 

73 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

bofe  eyes  was  done  soaked  out  an'  de 
paint  gone,  an'  all  its  yaller  hair  it  had 
done  eve'y  bit  soaked  off. 

"Sir?  Oh,  I  don't  know,  sir,  how  she 
gwine  teck  it.  Dey  ain't  no  sayin'  as  to 
dat.  She  hadn't  come  to  when  I  come 
away.  She  had  jes  drapped  down  in  a 
dead  faint  in  the  mids'  o'  de  kitchen,  an' 
I  holp  Milly  lif  her  on  to  de  bed,  an'  I 
reshed  for  you.  Co'se  I  had  to  stop  an' 
ketch  de  horse ;  an'  de  roads,  dey  was  so 
awful  muddy  an' — ' 

It  was  a  long  ride  over  the  heavy 
roads,  and  as  the  good  doctor  trotted 
along,  with  the  old  darky  steadily  talk- 

74 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

ing  beside  him,  he  presently  ceased  to 
hear. 

Having  once  realized  the  situation, 
his  professional  mind  busied  itself  in 
speculations  as  to  the  probable  result 
of  so  critical  an  incident  to  his  patient. 
Accident,  chance,  or  mayhap  a  kind 
Providence,  had  done  for  her  the  thing 
he  had  long  wished  to  try  but  had  not 
dared.  The  mental  shock,  with  the  ir- 
reparable loss  of  the  doll,  would  prob- 
ably have  a  definite  effect  for  good  or 
ill — if,  indeed,  she  would  consent  even 
now  to  give  it  up.  Of  course  there  was 
no  telling. 

75 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 


This  question  was  almost  immedi- 
ately answered,  however,  for  when, 
presently,  the  old  negro  led  the  way 
into  the  lane  leading  to  the  Williams 
gate,  preceding  the  doctor  so  as  to  open 
the  gate  for  him,  he  leaned  suddenly 
over  his  horse's  neck  and  peered  eagerly 
forward.  Then  drawing  rein  for  a  mo- 
ment, he  called  back: 

"Marse  Doctor,  look  hard,  please, 
sir,  an'  see  what  dat  my  ol'  'oman  Milly 
is  doin'  out  at  de  front  gate." 

The  doctor's  eyes  were  little  better 
than  his  companion's.  Still,  he  was  able 

a  moment  to  reply: 

hy,  old  man,  she  is  tying  a  piece 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

of  white  muslin  upon  the  gate-post. 
Something  has  happened." 

"White  is  for  babies,  ain't  it,  Marse 
Doctor?" 

"Yes— or  for—" 

"Den  it  mus'  be  she's  give  it  up  for 
dead." 

The  old  man  began  sobbing  again. 

"Yes;  thank  God!"  said  the  doctor. 
And  he  wiped  his  eyes. 


lane  had  soon  told  its  absurd 
some  little  tale  of  woe  to  the  few 
ers-by   on   the    road — its   playful    an- 
ncement    of    half    the    story,    the 

omedy  side,  pathetically  suggesting 
the  tragedy  that  was  being  enacted 
within. 

Before  many  hours  all  Simpkinsville 

new  what  had  happened,  and  the  little 
community  had  succumbed  to  an  attack 
of  hysteria. 

78 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 


Simpkinsville  was  not  usually  of  a 
particularly  nervous  or  hysterical  tem- 
per, but  a  wholesome  sense  of  the  ludi- 
crous, colliding  with  her  maternal  love 
for  her  afflicted  child,  could  not  do  less 
than  find  relief  in  simultaneous  laugh- 
ter and  tears. 

And  still,  be  it  said  to  their  credit, 
when  the  good  women  separated,  after 
meeting  in  the  various  houses  to  talk  it 
over,  it  was  the  mark  of  tears  which  re- 
mained upon  their  faces. 

But  when  it  was  presently  known 
that  their  nerve  poise  was  to  be  still 
more  critically  tested  by  a  "funeral"  an- 
nounced for  the  next  day,  there  was  less 

79 


- 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 


emotion  exhibited,  perhaps,  with  more 
quiet  consultations  among  the  serious- 
minded. 

When  Miss  Mary  Ellen,  prostrate 
and  wan  wth  the  burden  of  her  long- 
borne   sj^row,   had   from   her   pillow 
given     instructions     for     the 
,  the  old  doctor,  who  solicitously 
hed  beside  her,  in  the  double  ca- 
ity  of  friend  and  physician,  had  not 
en  able  to  say  her  nay. 
And  when  on  the  next  day  he  had 

invited  a  conference  on  the 
ject  with  her  brother,  the  minister,  his 
ftctor,    and    several    perso 
«f  the  family,  tl|< 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 


lines  about  his  eyes,  and  he  confessed 
that  before  daring  his  advice  on  so  sen- 
sitive a  point  he  had  "wajked  the  flo' 
the  livelong  night." 

And  then  he  had  stronglyj^nequivo- 
cally,  advised  the  funeral. 

"We've  thought  it  best  to  hu 
all  the  way  through,"  he  began, 
now,  when  the  end  is  clairly  in  si 
why,    there    ain't   any   consistency 
changin'  the  treatment.    Maybe  whe 
it's  buried  she'll  forget  it,  an'  in  time 
to  herself.  Of  co'se  it'll  be  a  try- 


h'  ordeel,  but  there's  enough  of  us  sens- 


relations 


it,  if  m 


friends  the 
be."  HehadJ 
81 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

up  and  down  the  room  as  he  spoke,  his 
hands  clasped  behind  him,  and  now  he 
stopped  before  the  minister.  "Of  co'se, 
Brother  Binney" — he  spoke  with  pain- 
ful hesitation — "of  co'se  she'll  look  for 
you  to  come  an'  to  put  up  a  prayer,  an' 
maybe  read  a  po'tion  o'  Scripture.  An' 
I've  thought  that  over.  Seems  to  me  the 
whole  thing  is  sad  enough  for  religious 
services — ef  anything  is.  I've  seen  reel 
funerals  thet  wasn't  half  so  mo'nful,  ef 
I'm  any  judge  of  earthly  sorrers.  There 
wouldn't  be  any  occasion  to  bring  in 
the  doll  in  the  services,  I  don't  think. 
But  there  ain't  any  earthly  grief,  in  my 
opinion,  but's  got  a  Scripture  tex'  to 
82 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

match  it,  ef  it's  properly  selected,"  the 
old  doctor  concluded. 

A  painful  stillness  followed  this  ap- 
peal. But  presently,  after  closing  his 
eyes  for  a  moment  as  if  in  prayer,  the 
good  minister  said: 

"Of  course,  my  dear  friends,  you  can 
see  thet  this  thing  can't  be  conducted  as 
a  funeral.  But,  as  our  good  brother  has 
jest  remarked,  for  all  the  vicissitudes  of 
life — and  death — for  our  safety  in  joy 
and  our  comfort  in  sorrow,  we  are  given 
precious  words  of  sweet  and  blessed 
consolation." 


The  saddest  funeral  gathering  in  all 

83 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 


annals  of  Simpkinsville — so  it  is  still  al- 
ways designated  by  those  who  wept  at 
the  obsequies — was  that  of  Miss  Mary 
Ellen's  doll,  led  by  the  good  brother  in 
Christ  on  the  following  day. 

The    prayer-meeting    women    were 
there,  of  course,  fortified  in  their  faith 
by  the  supreme  demand  laid  upon  it, 
and  even  equipped  with  fresh  self-con- 
trol for  this  crucial  test  of  their  poise 
and  worthiness.   Their  love  was  deep 
a^d^iijcere,  and  yet  so  sensitive  were 
the  dangers  of  this  most  pre- 
situation  that  when  presently 
njijiister  entered,  book  in  hand,  a 
apprehension  seized  them. 

84 


\ 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 


.<: -.,. 


It  was  as  a  great  wave  of  indescrib- 
able fright,  so  awful  that  for  a  moment 
their  hearts  seemed  to  stop  beating,  so 
irresistible  in  its  force  that  unless  it 
should  be  quickly  stayed  it  must  pres- 
ently break  in  some  emotion. 

No  doubt  the  good  brother  felt  it  too, 

• 

for  instead  of  opening  his  book,  as  had; 
been  his  intention,  he  laid  it  down  upon'/* 
the  table  before  him — the  small  center- 
table  upon  which  lay  what  seemed  a 
tiny  mound  heaped  with  flowers — and, 
placing  both  hands  upon  the  bowed 
head  of  the  little  woman  who  sat  beside1- 
it,  closed  his  eyes,  and  raised  his  face 
heavenward. 

85 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 


"Dear  Lord,  Thou  knowest,"  he  said 
slowly.  Then  finding  no  other  words, 
perhaps,  and  willing  to  be  still,  he 
waited  a  moment  in  silence. 

When  he  spoke  again  the  wave  had 
broken.  The  air  seemed  to  sway  with 
the  unmistakable  vibrations  that  tell  of 
silent  weeping,  and  every  face  was 
buried  in  a  handkerchief. 

"Thou  knowest,  O  Lord,"  he  re- 
sumed presently,  raising  his  voice  a  lit- 
tle as  if  in  an  access  of  courage  —  "Thou 
knowest  how  dear  to  our  hearts  is  Thy 
handmaiden,  this  beloved  sister  who 
sits  in  sorrow  among  us  to-day.  Thou 
knowest  how  we  love  her.  Thou  know- 
86 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 

est  that  her  afflictions  are  ours.  And 
oh,  dear  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  grant 
that  when  we  have  reverently  put  this 
poor  little  symbol  of  our  common  sor- 
row out  of  sight  for  ever,  Thy  peace 
may  descend  and  fill  her  heart  and  ours 
with  Thy  everlasting  benediction." 

The  words,  which  had  come  slowly, 
though  without  apparent  effort,  might 
have  been  inspired.  Surely  they  sounded 
to  the  women  who  waited  as  if  uttered 
by  a  voice  from  Heaven,  and  to  their 
spiritually  attuned  ears  it  was  a  voice 
comforting,  composing,  quieting. 

After  this  followed  a  reading  of 
Scripture — a  selection  taken  for  its 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 


wide  application  to  all  God's  sorrowing 
people — and  the  singing  of  the  hymn, 

"God  shall  charge  His  angel  legions 
Watch  and  ward  o'er  thee  to  keep." 

This  was  sung,  without  a  break,  from 
the  beginning  clear  through  to  the  end, 
with  its  sweet  promise  to  the  grief- 
stricken  of  "life  beyond  the  grave." 
Then  came  the  benediction — the  bene- 
diction of  the  churches  since  the  days 
of  the  apostles,  used  of  all  Christians 
the  world  over,  but  ever  beautiful  and 
new — "The  peace  of  God,  which  pass- 
eth  all  understanding,  keep  your  hearts 
and  minds,"  etc. 


7 


All  tfie  company 
all  e 


ire   cere 
position — and  when  it 


recL  when   the  moment  of  silent 
r$  yas  over  and  one  by  one  the 
women   rose   from   their  knees,   there 
came  an  awkward  interval  pending  the_ 
next  step  in  this  most  difficult  and 
ceptional  service. 

The  little  woman  in  whose  behalf  it 
had  been  conducted,  for  whom  all  the 
prayers  had  been  said,  made  no  sign 
to  her  further  will  in  the  matter. 

It  had  been  expected  that  she  would 
herself  go  to  the  burial,  and  against  this 


THE  UNLIVED  LIFE 

contingency  a  little  grave  had  been  pre- 
pared in  the  family  burial-plot,  which, 
happily,  was  situated  upon  her  own 
ground,  in  a  grove  of  trees  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  house,  beyond  the  gar- 
den. 

After  waiting  for  some  moments,  and 
seeing  that  she  still  did  not  move,  the 
reverend  brother  finally  approached 
her  and  laid  his  palm  as  before  upon 
her  head.  Then,  quickly  reaching 
around,  he  drew  her  hand  from  beneath 
her  cheek,  felt  her  pulse,  and  now,  turn- 
ing, he  motioned  to  the  doctor  to  come. 

The  old  man,  Doctor  Jenkins,  lifted 
her  limp  arm  tenderly  and  felt  her 
90 


OF  LITTLE  MARY  ELLEN 


wrist,  listened  with  his  ear  against  her 
bosom,  waited,  and  listened  again — and 
again.  And  then,  laying  back  the  hand 
tenderly,  he  took  his  handkerchief  from 
his  pocket  and  wiped  his  eyes. 

"Dear  friends,"  he  said  huskily, 
"your  prayers  have  been  answered. 
Sister  Mary  Ellen  has  found  peace." 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-32m-8,'58(5876s4)444 


PS    Stuart..*-- 
2960  The  unlived 

U!?8   lii'e  of  little 
Mary  Ellen. 

001231490 


UCLA-Young  Research  Library 

PS2960  .U58 

yr 


009  604  365  8 


PS 

2960 

U58 


